He loves her, He loves me not
by luv1711
Summary: A foray into the darker moments of a woman's life.


Disclaimer: The Harry Potter World and all of the characters are the sole property of J.K. Rowling and affiliates; I make no money for my endeavors.

Author's note: This story is AU after the kiss between Ron and Hermione in DH. This story is not set directly after this event. This was meant to be a one-shot… but I will follow it with a POV, probably Severus, chaser at some point.

Huge thank you to: KJS X-OVER, The Duchessina, Demtoxin, TCFellows, Dark Ridge Ink, AlyssaRosey, Forklips, and nimath for reviewing. I've edited this story and the chaser will probably be up in a few months.

October 1999

It was a gorgeous, sunny October day in the wizarding and muggle world alike. Unfortunately, although the brilliant, sparkling sunlight reached the dilapidated neighborhood, the suns' rays could no more lighten Hermione's heart with happiness than penetrate the dirty, draped windows of Spinners End.

Hermione rigidly sat on a ragged armchair drawn near enough the forlorn covered windows that she needn't perch on the edge; as she was currently doing.

Nothing quieted her nerves. Not the knitting materials scattered tangled near her feet or the forgotten book on her lap. Even the incessant peeks between the moth-eaten black curtains did little to quell the urge to throw the drapes wide open and stare out unabashedly in search of her query; her husband.

It wasn't as if he was late; Hermione just hated when he was away. As if he had been summoned magically Severus Snape appeared outside the house's drape covered windows with a muted pop.

He saw her thin, pale ring adorned fingers of her left hand before the motion revealed the woman in the room beyond the curtains.

Hermione's shrill scream was more due to the sudden, unexpected appearance of the man rather than the harsh expression conveyed on his face through narrowed eyes and thinned lips.

His entrance was punctuated with the slam of the front door. He shrugged off his outer cloak and hung it aggressively on the coat rack; before he turned to admonish Hermione for looking out the window, again.

"I thought you understood why it is imperative to refrain from looking out the window when I am away," Severus began harshly, "Obviously you neither possess nor have you acquired any common sense in the time we've been together;" he continued caustically.

"Is it so wrong to worry about you," Hermione countered reasonably, quietly, devoid of discernable emotion.

"You needn't worry about me," he quipped annoyed.

"But I'm your wife," she countered with conviction.

"In name, mostly," he stated bluntly as he settled himself in the furthest most armchair to read.

Hermione remembered, her heart sinking into her stomach, she hated it when he was home as well.

The evenings following Severus' venture into The Dark Lord's world or a private audience with the Dark Lord himself proceeded in a similar fashion. His frustration would give way to spiteful remarks usually aimed at insulting her intelligence or reminding her of her uselessness to the cause; the Order.

Irritated, but in secret agreement with his assessments, Hermione would seldom argue and would often become increasingly withdrawn as the night progressed. Tense, silent dinners were often followed by detached sex.

Their bedroom resembled their marriage; stark. The room was bereft of mementos, sentimental or otherwise. In its entirety it was comprised of a wand made African Blackwood bed, done up in sheets of white linen covered by a grey duvet that was flanked on either side by mismatched, dark, rickety end tables. The worn, beige carpet and black curtains intensified the home's air of neglect which hadn't abated in the eighteen consecutive months of its cohabitation. The room was completed by an ensuite bathroom which was a dingy, but clean, white and featured a cracked mirror above the sink.

Hermione was always the first one to retire. As she lay awake waiting for her husband to join her she wondered how much alcohol it would take tonight to make him forget; forget the war, forget that it was her beneath him.

A barely audible sigh passed her lips and she firmly pressed them together to stem her emotions.

For the barest moment all he did was lay beside her; but Hermione could tell he was tired and restless and any time spent as man and wife would end swiftly. He touched her thigh to attain permission to touch her more intimately; although it hardly mattered since she never refused him. His touch was familiar as was the practiced manner in which he aroused her. He would kiss her neck and stroke her body through her nightgown until her desire manifested itself. Like similar nights, Hermione pressed her body forcibly against his as a means to convey her desire to progress further. He needn't any coaxing since he had been ready for some time and promptly rolled on top of her, striping them both of their remaining clothing. He entered her and maintained a steady rhythm never looking at her.

When he first started looking at the space of the mattress above her right shoulder during sex rather than her, it hurt. When he told her to stop touching him while they were in the middle of the act, it stung. But both were par for the course, so Hermione was currently staring at the ceiling bracing herself against his thrusts with fists full of sheets. The act which was devoid of emotion was not lacking for pleasure so her breathy moans filled the otherwise empty room.

Grabbing his wand off the side table, without turning his face towards her, he pointed it in Hermione's direction and muttered, "Silencio."

Shocked at being silenced, Hermione turned to face Severus but he continued to avoid her gaze so she resumed her perusal of the ceiling willing herself to be numb and indifferent and hoping he would just hurry up and finish.

Immediately after he climaxed he rolled off of her. Moments later she left for the ensuite bathroom, biting her tongue to quell the traitorous emotions bubbling forth in response to the new injury against her pride. As soon as the door was closed and locked behind her she crumpled to the floor and began to sob, head cradled in her hands. She soon became stiff on the cold, tiled floor and ran herself a bath. Languidly soaking in the hot water Hermione began to reminisce over events that led to her now miserable life.

July 7, 1998

Harry hadn't been victorious the night Hogwarts was attacked early in May. The group retreated then, as they were retreating now; except this time they were being actively pursued. Sinister curses coupled with the killing curse flew past eliminating all means of escape, one by one, comrades fell; yet with death hot on their heels no one stopped, they just kept running. Hesitating because Hermione didn't want to trample the dead and dying she became a stationary target. With a curse leveled at her back, Ron changed direction and pushed her hard out of the way as he received the entire curse in her stead. The impact with the ground dazed Hermione; but she soon recovered sense enough to check on Ron. Harry and Ginny were crouched by his side, crying. Knowing what she would discover, but in disbelief due to her shock she tried to rouse him.

"Ron, darling, you have to get up; we have to keep running," Hermione pleaded her voice choking with emotion as she clutched at his shirt and cupped his face.

"There's nothing you can do for him, Hermione… he's gone… we have to go," Harry said voice both shaking with grief and urgency as he and Ginny attempted to drag the girl away.

"Go, I'm not leaving him," Hermione stated baldly.

Although her friends would never normally leave her, Harry couldn't watch Ginny tortured and killed, and because she wouldn't leave his side they both ran. And Hermione was captured.

She was tortured for hours on end in an attempt to glean information on Harry or the Order. She didn't break, she wouldn't ever break; her silence, rather, because her mind could only withstand so much.

Professor Snape had saved her life. He convinced the Dark Lord with pretty, empty words. "My Lord," he began tentatively, "it would be such a pity to lose the clever intellect and magical skill this girl possesses," the spy continued, "I fear only her mind will break, never her resolve."

"What do you purpose?" Lord Voldemort asked intrigued.

"Utilize her for our own goals," Severus said simply.

"How are you to accomplish this?" queried the Dark Lord.

"In any manner that pleases you, my Lord," Severus replied reverently.

"You'll have to take her as your wife; that is the only way, as she may break with time," he responded.

"Of course," Severus whispered.

"Ah, but we are forgetting, we must ask the bride- to- be if she will take you or not," the reptilian man chuckled amused.

Present Day

The cold water roused Hermione from her thoughts and she quickly dried and dressed stealing into her own bed quietly so as not to wake her husband.

The next morning Hermione was livid. Severus had reverted to treating her with indifference as if she was a student or just a fellow Order member; though this was only one facet of her current anger.

"You're awfully quiet today," Severus mused aloud while he fixed breakfast.

Hermione continued to glare at him and crossed her arms over her chest. As he turned to face her fully she noticed a small crease between his eyebrows indicating his confusion. Fine, Hermione thought, she would enlighten him then. With a pointed glance at his crotch she raised and narrowed her eyes; when she had his attention she raised one eyebrow as if to say, "Well?"

"Oh," Severus said realizing, "sorry."

And with a flick of his wand in her direction she could speak again. But, she wasn't going to.

When he handed Hermione her morning cup of tea he received no thanks. When he attempted to engage her in small talk he received her icy gaze. When he told her he preferred her like this she lost her patience.

She set her empty tea cup down on the table so hard that it would have shattered had it not been spelled unbreakable.

"Considering you do not require my participation," she began coldly, "next time you come home, you can go fuck yourself," she spat heatedly and left the room.

Despite her strong words a small smile graced his lips because her tirade reminded him of her former self.

A couple days later Severus was summoned to spend a few days in the Dark Lord's service. When he returned home there was no anxious girl peeking between the folds of fabric encasing the windows. And later as they lay side by side she said, "Don't touch me, Severus." Apparently, he was meant to fuck himself.

"Always keep your shield up," Severus muttered, "and be respectful," he reminded her forcibly."

"I know," Hermione said exasperated.

"Life and death hang in the balance," he stated harshly.

"I know," she deadpanned.

The following evening greeted an anxious Hermione in a luxurious set of forest green robes. Severus, in full Death-Eater garb, rigidly held Hermione against him before he touched the dark mark and apparated to Malfoy Manor.

The Dark Lord usually paid Hermione little mind. If he decided to engage the witch it was done for his amusement and those in attendance. His favorite ploy was to describe, in great detail, Ron's dismemberment. The first time she heard what had happened she had thrown up on the Dark Lord himself. She remembered little from that particular evening as he had lost his temper and tortured her with the Cruciatus curse into unconsciousness.

Severus had threatened to repeat the story daily if she couldn't handle hearing it. She promised she wouldn't lose control to that degree again.

No matter how many times Lord Voldemort repeated the story; he never tired of witnessing and delighting in her looks of revulsion and pain.

When he finished he always asked her the same question, "Why did you ever want that boy?" Up until this point she had said nothing.

So she surprised him by replying, "you're right my Lord, why would I want a boy when I now have a man."

"You may be finally making some headway Severus," the Dark Lord said delighted.

Hermione thought he had finally lost all grip on reality if he actually believed anything she said.

"Now run along, child; spend some time with young master Malfoy," Lord Voldemort commanded.

"My Lord…," Severus began.

"Do not worry Severus," his master said, "neither Draco nor your wife is foolish enough to betray you," he placated.

It grated her nerves to be addressed as a child considering the reign of terror had stripped her of her innocence long ago. But, she was relieved to have a reprieve so she went in search of Malfoy.

Hermione had been through countless corridors with no results. So when she encountered a tiny house elf she couldn't contain the small smile of relief.

"Can you please tell me where Mr. Malfoy is located?" Hermione asked crouching down to speak to the elf on eye level.

"He is being with the Dark Lord, Miss," she stammered.

"No, the other one," Hermione began before Malfoy emerged from a room a few doors up the hall.

"Be, make yourself scarce," Malfoy ordered the house elf and in a wink Be vanished.

"Well, don't just stand in the hallway Granger, come in," Malfoy said.

When Hermione pursed her lips in his direction he looked puzzled.

"It's Mrs. Snape, Actually," she spat acidly.

"So, I've heard. Force of habit; I do apologize Mrs. Snape," he said with much grandiose.

She ignored his baiting and sat on the most comfortable looking piece of furniture; his bed.

He pulled up a chair and sat across from her. Silently facing one another until Malfoy suddenly asked, "Are you always this quiet, Hermione?" "I remember in school," he began again, "you spoke all the time."

"Yes, Malfoy, I am," she replied simply smiling sadly, "we are no longer in school."

"Tut, tut," he said to lighten the mood, "we mustn't address each other like the enemies we are; call me Draco."

"We aren't enemies, Draco," Hermione replied softly.

"I'm a Death-Eater," he reminded her, and himself, sternly.

"And I'm a Death-Eater's wife," Hermione reminded him in return.

He abruptly captured her right hand within his own and began to stroke his thumb softly across her knuckles. Knowing she should have pulled away, but not wanting to, Hermione allowed her hand to linger within his.

When the door opened to reveal her husband; she regretted not pulling away.

There was no verbal assault. His anger radiated off him in waves and manifested itself in the manner he gripped her arm and pulled Hermione to her feet.

He apparated directly home and took her roughly, though not forcibly, against the living room wall. When he walked away she wished desperately that she didn't care that he didn't care.

The first thing he said to Hermione in days was, "I'm going out tomorrow." Which meant Harry was visiting her. She also noticed that he now never looked at her. Pretend I don't exist she thought bitterly.

The sacrifice Ron made by saving her life was utilized to keep her protected, or trapped, within Spinner's End as long as she called it home. Harry was the only other living person the wards recognized besides Severus and, thus, he could apparate directly inside to visit on rare occasions.

Hermione hadn't seen him in six months so she was genuinely pleased to see him. They caught up rather quickly considering they both had limited mobility in the present political climate. So, Harry studied her face in earnest and accurately deduced she was unhappy.

"Hermione, love, what's wrong?" Harry plied.

"Nothing," she lied, quietly, avoiding his gaze.

"Is Snape treating you well?" he asked in hushed tones inviting confidence.

"Yes, fine," she replied half-heartedly.

"Hermione, tell me, please," he pleaded as he encircled her in his arms.

"I can't," she whispered against his neck as she began to shake with suppressed emotion.

"You can, you can tell me anything," he stressed.

"Sometimes, I think I may hate your mother," she said softly, solemnly.

Although Harry was caught off-guard he understood.

"Hermione, it's almost over," he comforted before he left with a pop.

March 12, 2000

And then it was over. Peace became the norm instead of the exception once again. Pain, though, would linger for quite some time regardless. Intense emotional pain caused Hermione to get incredibly smashed which led her to believe fucking Severus would bring her comfort; whereas in actuality it left her feeling bereft and resentful.

In the weeks following the victory, the couple stayed together under the pretense of safety; but in reality they had both grown used to one another and didn't want another sudden upheaval so soon.

June 5, 2000

The newly acquired owl, Sprinkles, delivered the good news: Harry and Ginny were getting married. Our presence was requested for the following July 5th.

"We have a wedding to attend," she told Severus over breakfast.

"We?" he repeated.

"Yes, you're invited," Hermione reiterated patiently.

"Why?" he replied sullenly.

"You were in the Order with them," Hermione reasoned.

"So?" he stated flatly.

"Well," she tried another tactic, "you are my husband."

"So I've been told," he muttered half-kidding, half- resentfully.

"Do you expect me to go alone?" she asked, angrily, standing up.

"No," he replied, tersely, as she walked away.

Sometimes, in her darker moments, Hermione believes her pain is her penitence for causing Ron's death.

Ginny and Harry's wedding was beautiful. The exact opposite of mine; Hermione mused as she remembered the fateful day.

July 28, 1998

"What is your choice?" Lord Voldemort falsely crooned, for he knew she

had heard the entire exchange regardless of her position on the floor, "death or dishonor," he finished stressing each word, amused.

I'll marry him," she croaked. Hermione wouldn't use the word dishonor for she wasn't really betraying them. She chose life for the Light and for Harry's sake. But, even then she knew it was only for Harry.

They were bonded for life by an elderly wizard under the Imperius curse. As soon as the ceremony was complete he was killed by the Dark Lord. My Lord, she thought bitterly, as she was a Death-Eater's wife now.

Even though they both married for the same reason, in order to maintain Harry's sanity, Hermione was resentful. He hadn't married her for Harry's sake, really; he married because he loved her…

Present Day

George Weasley broke through her painful reverie.

"Hermione," George began good-naturedly, seated at a round table completely alone, "where's your infamous husband?"

"I don't know," she said, "probably off getting pissed," she hazarded as she sat down to join him.

"Hermione, you know Ron would have wanted you to be happy," he spoke sincerely.

"I know," she replied softly.

"Are you happy?" he asked concerned.

"No," Hermione answered shortly and left in search of her husband.

Severus was irritated when she refused him later that evening.

A few weeks later

Hermione was cross that they had reverted to behaving like acquaintances. She could no longer pretend that it was war that caused unhappiness to permeate their marriage. Hope that Severus Snape would ever return any of her affections had died within her long ago. She would never be good enough…. She would never be Lily, Hermione thought derisively. She was done.

Hermione confronted Severus later that evening.

"I'm unhappy," Hermione said heatedly before she was interrupted.

"Do you think you are the only one?" he reminded meanly; referring to the state of the wizarding world.

"No," she bit out, "obviously, not."

"Our marriage," Hermione began again and stopped when he raised the paper to continue to read.

"Pay attention! I'm speaking to you!" She yelled frustrated.

He lowered the paper and looked her in the eye before saying, "our marriage is exactly as to be expected, given the circumstances."

"I don't want to live like this," Hermione declared.

And he shrugged in response.

"I won't live like this," she muttered.

"Won't you?" he countered, "We're bonded for life."

"You misunderstand," she replied, "I would rather be dead than spend another day with you!" Hermione said as caustically as possible.

"Shall I fetch you some poison then?" he asked mockingly.

"Why don't you?" Hermione spat.

Severus was tired of catering to the whims of others. He had quite enough of her temper-tantrum and empty threats and knew just how to shut her up. So he went into his personal stores and got the silly chit some poison.

"Don't spill any. It's a bitch to clean up," he said as he handed her the bottle.

Hermione took the bottle and left for their bedroom. She set the potion on the nightstand as she went to use the toilet. When she re-entered the bedroom proper she was oddly calm for she knew it was almost over.

"Well," she thought with a trace of hurt, "I'd like to see him ignore me now," as she settled herself on his side of the bed, uncorked the poison, and downed it in one go.


End file.
